


Cold Season

by leinthalexandra, starshade



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Light Angst, Overprotective Thorin, Sassy Bilbo, Sick Bilbo, mentions of Dis/OFC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-28
Updated: 2013-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-16 11:32:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/861510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leinthalexandra/pseuds/leinthalexandra, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starshade/pseuds/starshade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo falls ill, and Thorin is an overprotective worrier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Season

It started with a few sniffs and a stuffy nose when Bilbo had returned from a week-long stay in Dale. She'd intended to stay only for a few days, taking time to visit with Bard and several other of her friends, but a storm from the north had blown in and she'd been unable to return to the mountain for several days past when she'd planned. Dale was still not completely finished being rebuilt, and so there was not nearly enough shelter against the cold—the most fortified of the buildings housed the children and the elderly.

So now Bilbo rode back to Erebor, her pony watered and fed and covered in a blanket over even her thick and shaggy winter coat before they’d left Dale. "Almost there," she said, patting Daffodil on her neck. "Then you'll be back in the stables and— _ach-oo_!" Bilbo sniffed and tried to wipe her nose, but wasn't very successful with her overly large mittens. She'd even given in and put woollen socks over her typically bare feet (at Bard's insistence).

Thankfully the gate wasn't much further, and Bilbo sighed with relief at the thought of hot tea and a fire roaring in the hearth, then sliding into a warm bed covered in layers of blankets and furs and Thorin's arms around her, holding her close... At that last thought, Bilbo grimaced a little. Thorin would not be pleased that Bilbo had been away for so long, particularly the reason why she'd been delayed.

—

Thorin rushed to the main gate the moment word was sent that a lone rider was approaching the mountain. Bilbo had left a week ago to visit her friends among the Men. Thorin knew it was an ill-fated idea, in this season. Storms could arise at any time, and one had done at the worst possible time. None of their patrols had been able to leave the mountain, nor had Thorin been able to go to Dale to fetch Bilbo.

She would still not call the roads safe to travel on, yet she'd intended to do just that this afternoon. She wasn't sure whether she would be irritated or relieved if the rider approaching was Bilbo. It would save her the trip through the snow, but Bilbo making such a potentially dangerous trip alone...Thorin should have insisted she take guards.

In the courtyard on the very outer parts of the mountain it was bitterly cold, and snow poured in onto the cobblestone when the guards opened the smaller gate. Thorin recognized the shaggy gold coat of the pony that ploughed through the snow, and though she couldn’t see Bilbo under the layers of wool—she was wearing _socks_ , of all things; Thorin had never seen her feet covered, not once—she knew it was her all the same.

Thorin sighed, allowing herself a moment of relief that Bilbo was home safe before crossing her arms over her chest. "Perfectly safe, you said. No sign of foul weather in sight."

Bilbo dismounted from her pony and gave Thorin a wry grin. "Hello to you, too. 'How are you, Bilbo?' Oh, I'm quite fine, thank you, Thorin. It's good to see you."

One of the guards—Fili and Kili's friend Asta, as it turned out—came up to them, bowing slightly to Thorin and smiling at Bilbo. "I'll take her back t' the stables for ya," she said. "Like as not she'd a mite bit tired, not t' mention cold."

"Thank you, Asta," Bilbo told her. Asta nodded and took the pony's reins before leading her away, scratching behind her ears as they went.

Looking back at Thorin, Bilbo started to speak, but sneezed again, and again, and again. "Sorry about that," she said, sniffling. She rubbed her hands together even though she'd not yet taken her mittens off.

Thorin laughed in spite of her worried annoyance, but she stopped when Bilbo began to sneeze. Then she noted the strange sound to Bilbo's voice and her sniffling. Dwarves did not fall ill, save under the most extreme of circumstances, and such times were often fatal. She had seen more than her share of Men succumb to sickness in the winter months, as well, suffering through constant, wet coughing fits, withering away as the cold wore them down, and food seemed to do no good. She had watched Herja and Oin try to save plenty, and fail.

"Bilbo? Are you all right?" She pushed Bilbo's hood down and brushed snow out of the front of her hair, fingers grazing over Bilbo's cheek. Despite the cold, her skin was warmer than it ought to have been. Regardless of Bilbo's answer, she would call for Herja the moment they returned to the royal suites.

Bilbo chuckled, but it quickly turned into a hacking cough. "I'm fine, Thorin," she said. "It's likely just a cold. Nothing serious." At Thorin's worried look, Bilbo added, "I know that dwarves don't catch cold—or anything else, for that matter—but I've been sick plenty of times. It's nothing to–" But she started coughing again before she could finish her sentence.

Thorin put an arm around her and started guiding her away from the gates and towards the courtyard just past the entrance. "Thorin!" said Bilbo, but her protests went unheeded. "Thorin, I am perfectly all right!" Her sneezes in between her words didn't seem to help her point, however.

Thorin ignored Bilbo's reassurances, since every one of them seemed to be followed by another cough or sneezing fit. She kept her arm tight around Bilbo and waved off anyone who tried to stop them. She considered simply lifting Bilbo, though she was certain that would only result in a good scolding, and Bilbo seemed fine enough on her feet for the moment.

"The next time I say leaving is a bad idea I do hope you might listen," Thorin muttered, as Bilbo's shoulders shook under her arm, through another coughing fit. Bilbo's insistence that she’d been sick before does little to ease the worry that started to gnaw at Thorin's mind. She knew the conditions in Dale, knew it must have been hard to find warm lodgings there, and thus Bilbo hadn't been properly warm in a week. That would weaken anyone. "You're going to bed as soon as you're out of these clothes, and then I'm sending for Herja." She'd call Oin instead, but she'd rather not have to shout.

In spite of what she told Thorin, Bilbo did feel rather light-headed. Not that she would tell that to the fussy dwarf, of course. It would only make her even more worried than she was now. An argument is the last thing she wanted. Just because dwarves didn't get sick didn't mean that hobbits couldn't, and Thorin was being utterly ridiculous. Overreacting might be a better word, but Bilbo was feeling generous. (Not that Thorin deserved it.)

"You can stop pushing me," Bilbo said. "Please? I can walk perfectly fine on my own." She shivered, though; has the mountain always been so cold? Likely it had, and she'd simply become used to it. Although that didn't quite make sense, when she thought on it. But really, she was freezing, so Bilbo supposed that she was allowed a little lapse in thought.

Thorin did her best to not push quite so forcefully, though she did continue with the quick pace she'd already set. They were almost home and she didn't want to slow down; Bilbo's clothes were damp from the snow, and likely it did little to keep her warm now.

She didn't allow even a pause when they reached their apartments, immediately directing Bilbo to their room, where she went to stoke the coals in the hearth to get the fire back up. By the time it was crackling away, the room was already warmer than Thorin found comfortable, but she could see Bilbo shivering, so Thorin would simply adjust to it. "You need to get out of these," she said, tugging Bilbo's mittens off and unwinding her scarf. "I'll get my robe." The thick fur would keep her warm, and was large enough to wrap around Bilbo twice.

Bilbo nodded and sat on the floor, hugging herself tightly before she began peeling off the layers. They were damp from the melted snow, and her fingers shook even as she pulled away the socks on her feet. The air against her toes felt blissfully good; she wouldn't miss the hot and stifling material over her feet.

Piece by piece, she tugged and untied her clothes and set each one in front of the fireplace until there wasn’t a stitch on her. Thankfully the wardrobe was close enough that she could grab her nightgown, her fumbling, frozen fingers trying their best to pull it over her head. She didn't even bother with the laces.

Instead she moved several pieces of her clothing to the side so that she herself had room to lie down in front of the fireplace. Bilbo was still shivering, and curled in on herself in an attempt to stay warm. She felt dizzy and her vision swam. Perhaps sitting back upright wouldn’t prove to be a good idea. This seemed to be adequate enough for now.

Thorin dug her robe out of the chest at the foot of the bed, and after a moment's consideration took one of her lighter coats as well. She returned to Bilbo and pulled her up enough that she could slip the coat onto her, and she wrapped Bilbo in the robe. She smoothed Bilbo's hair and glanced towards the bed; it would be more comfortable there, though that would take Bilbo away from the fire. She contented herself with dragging the furs and blankets from the bed to make a pallet on the floor in front of the hearth, then lifted Bilbo onto it.

She stood and hurried back into the hall, glancing about for one of the guards on watch. "You there!" she called to the first one she saw. "Go to the infirmary, and fetch lady Herja, tell her Bilbo is ill. Be quick about it!"

"Yes, my lady!" The guard bobbed his head and hurried off down the hall to do as he'd been bid.

Thorin went back to her room and to Bilbo. She sat down and drew Bilbo half into her lap. "I sent for Herja," she said, stroking Bilbo's hair. "I can't promise it will be a pleasant experience, but she would be able to help."

Bilbo closed her eyes and moved in a little closer. "I think I'll manage just fine. And I still say you're overreacting." But she didn't resist when Thorin ran her fingers through Bilbo's curls and gently combed out the tangled mess. Nor did she say anything when Thorin rested Bilbo's head in her lap.

Several minutes later, Herja came into the room without bothering to knock. "So," Bilbo heard her say, and Bilbo could picture her with her hands on her hips, or crossed over her chest. And she was likely giving Thorin that disapproving look that Herja seemed to reserve especially for her sister-in-law. "What nonsense have you been getting yourself into _now_ , Bilbo Baggins?" When Bilbo tried to answer her, though, another coughing fit started when she began to sit up, and her head spun.

"She's gotten herself sick is what she'd done," said Thorin, trying to sound irritated, but only managed to sound every bit as worried as she was. Bilbo seemed to have gotten worse so quickly. "It was only the coughing, at the gate, and this by the time we got here."

Herja uncrossed her arms and put her hands to her hips. "You ought to have brought her to the infirmary rather than making her walk all the way up here," she said. "Like as not, that didn't help her—oh, don't look at me like that, you haven't sentenced her to death, you great fool. Shoo, out of my way."

Thorin moved away reluctantly. Herja knelt next to Bilbo, helping her sit up. "You've a fever," she said. "Though I expect you knew that. From the sound of that cough and your breathing, though, you've nothing in your lungs." Herja pulled Bilbo's eyes further open, and gave her lips a concerned look. Thorin hadn't noticed before how dry and cracked they looked. "You haven't had enough to drink. I suggest you remedy that." She tutted at Bilbo and pulled the bag she'd brought with her into her lap.

"She’ll be fine in a few days," Herja said as she searched for something in her bad. "Keep her warm, make sure she drinks enough, and give her... this–" She pulled out a small white packet—herbs, most likely—and handed it to Thorin. "-in tea or broth. I'll return to the infirmary and prepare something that might help to clear out her nose. Provided we manage to get rid of this quickly, she'd in no danger. Mind you, keep a watch on her. If her breath starts to rattle..."

Thorin nodded at her sister-in-law. She could certainly do all of that. They would ensure that Bilbo recovered quickly, before any worse, more deadly symptoms set in. No need to worry about what to do should it turn into anything more than it was—or at least, Thorin would continue to tell herself.

"And for Durin's sake, Bilbo, take no more trips like this in the dead of winter." It wasn't often Bilbo was on the receiving end of one of Herja's scoldings.

Bilbo nodded. She took a breath, but it set off another coughing fit that made her lungs hurt from trying to breathe in deeper. She waved Thorin off as soon as Bilbo felt the Dwarf go rigid . "It's all right, Thorin!" But her voice had already grown hoarse, and she knew Thorin wouldn't believe her.

Her eyes closed again and she felt Thorin’s hand brushing along her sweat-soaked brow. Every part of her body _ached_ and her head pounded hard enough to make her dizzy. "I just want to go to bed," she croaked. Secretly she was glad that dwarves were immune to many illnesses, since she knew Thorin would hover over her worse than Dori did with his younger sister. (Bilbo would never admit it, either, but by now she felt terrible enough that she didn't think she would mind very much.)

"Bed would be a good idea," said Herja. "And you stay there. Thorin, I'm sure you can keep her in bed."

"Even if I have to chain her to the headboard," Thorin said, gathering the mass of furs and fabric that Bilbo had become into her arms.

"Good. I'll be back this evening with a few things." Herja closed her bag and picked it up, giving Thorin one last stern look. "Remember what I said about getting her to drink plenty." With that, she was gone, muttering to herself about ingredients, likely things she would need for whatever other remedies she intended to bring for Bilbo.

Thorin carried Bilbo to the bed, and after retrieving the rest of the blankets and furs from the floor she draped them over Bilbo’s small form. Herja had said to keep her warm, and Thorin planned to do just that, and in a moment she would provide some of that warmth herself. First, though, she poured a cup of water from the pitcher on Bilbo's nightstand. "You heard her," Thorin said, offering the cup. "You're to drink plenty." She would have to get to that broth soon, as well.

Bilbo nodded. "Can you help me sit up?" she said, hating that she had to ask for assistance with such a simple task, but her symptoms had worsened in such a short amount of time...

Thorin was gentle as she lifted Bilbo up until her back rested against the headboard, then handed the cup to Bilbo. While Bilbo drank, glad for the cool water to help ease her aching throat, Thorin pulled the curtains closed on all sides of their large bed, save for the one on the side nearest Bilbo.

"I don't mean to make you worry," Bilbo told her, when Thorin climbed into bed and sat next to her. "I simply wish that you would trust that I can take care of myself a bit more often, is all."

Thorin wrapped an arm around Bilbo and pulled her close in spite of the stifling heat, taking care not to spill the water in Bilbo’s hands. "I do trust that you can take care of yourself. But that does not keep me from worrying. And I fail to see how you're supposed to take care of yourself with this. You can't swing your sword at or talk your way out of an illness, dear one. I would worry less if you were facing down an enemy." She wouldn't, really, but perhaps that might make Bilbo understand.

Bilbo leaned against Thorin, feeling a bit more at ease from both the comfort she brought as well as the taste of the water, which helped cool her down. When she tried to set the cup back on the nightstand, though, Thorin took it from her hand and did it for her.

"I know," she sighed. "But I've been sick a number of times before, and I've always recovered before. I just need rest and some medicine and I'll be fine in a few days."

Bilbo remembered once when she’d been very sick as a child; her father had fretted over her and her mother had fixed her soup and brought it to her in bed. They had stayed with Bilbo for much of the day and night until she was better, telling her stories and keeping her company. (One particular instance comes to mind, when Belladonna had told of a very interesting story—"inappropriate!" Bungo said, his face going rather red as he wrung his hands in his lap—from one of her adventures as a tween, and how Belladonna had only laughed and kissed his cheek afterwards.)

"And if that is the case then I will be greatly relieved, and you may call me a fool for worrying all you like," said Thorin, kissing Bilbo's hair. "But until you're well, I'm going to be concerned."

Thorin did feel somewhat better, after Herja had not seemed to fret over it. Regardless of anything else, Thorin did trust Herja's ability as a healer. "I will do you the favor of not telling anyone else you're sick, if you like." she said. The others of their company would worry as Thorin is.

"Of course you will," Bilbo muttered; sleep was already overtaking her. "I suppose I shouldn't expect anything less." Thorin laughed, a deep rumbling in her chest, and Bilbo could feel it throughout her entire body. "And yes, I would appreciate it if we kept this between ourselves. Especially from your nephews." Were Fili and Kili to find out, Bilbo would be constantly bombarded by the two of them attempting to 'cheer her up'. Much as she loved the two boys, they could be...overwhelming.

"I will keep it from them as long as I can," Thorin assured her. She doubted that they would be kept in the dark for long, once they'd spoken to their mother...or once they realized Bilbo was home and they attempted to come and visit her. They _would_ be curious as to why Bilbo had not come to see them. They’d been nearly as worried over her this last week as Thorin. "None of us would be concerned if we didn't love you."

"I know." A sudden swell of warmth grew in her chest at the thought. Much as she disliked being coddled, the bonds between the company included fretting over their younger, or smaller members, in Bilbo’s case. "I care about the lot of you, too, you know. Goodness knows why, considering how many times you'd nearly gotten all of us killed..."

She looked up and gave a weak laugh at the scowl on Thorin's face. "It's only a jest, Thorin. Take it as it is." Part of her knew why Thorin took it much more seriously than the spirit in which Bilbo had intended. After what happened between the battle...

It had taken them a long time to work with one another and rebuild their friendship. 'A broken chain is strongest where it's been repaired,' Dis had told her early on. And it was true, to Bilbo's surprise. Before she knew it they had come to...this. (But although they could forgive, neither would forget, though the memories did eventually fade into the backs of their minds.)

Thorin gave Bilbo a gentle squeeze, trying not to slip back into old, dark thoughts she wished would leave her entirely. "I believe that contract fully detailed the number of dangers you might face," she said, trying for a joke of her own to ease the moment of tension. "I still have it, I can show you, if you like."

"No need," Bilbo said wryly. "I daresay that is one thing about dwarves that I will never understand—their need to be so very, _very_ meticulous when it comes to legal contracts." Most hobbits never used such things, instead trusting one another's words to be as good as any contract. There was also the small detail that many hobbits could not read or write.

" _One_ thing?" Thorin chuckled. "Dear one, you proclaim every day there's something you don't understand about us." It was entertaining, sometimes, Bilbo's frustration with their differences, especially when she decided to proclaim something impractical. Sometimes, Thorin even agreed with her, but that was simply the way things were done, more often than not.

"Very well, one of _many_." Bilbo crossed her arms and sank lower down the bed and under the blankets. Thorin followed her without a word. "Dwarves are..." she yawned, but continued, "very impossible to understand. Though by now I...think I've given up t-trying." Their conversation had distracted Bilbo somewhat from the pain and the chills, but now she moved back against Thorin, who pulled her as close as possible.

"Hmm, perhaps you ought to give up trying to stay awake as well," said Thorin. Once Bilbo was sleeping, Thorin might prepare dinner. Something to warm Bilbo up, at least. "Even without being ill, the ride through all that snow would tire anyone, dear one. And it's one I hope you'll promise you won't make again."

"'M not making any promises," Bilbo murmured. "Never know when one might have to do something such as that. You might need...rescuing...after all..."

Just before she fell asleep, Bilbo was dimly aware of Thorin's cool lips against her cheek, pressing a kiss to her feverish skin. And Bilbo drifted off with a smile on her face.

**Author's Note:**

> Herja is an OFC we developed early on in our collaboration. She and Thorin...don't get along very well, haha. She's a healer, like Oin, who was actually her mentor during their long journey from Erebor to the Blue Mountains. (For reference, we use Antonia Thomas as a fancasting, though Herja probably looks a bit older.)


End file.
